Jeepers Creepers 3: Deadlock
by Demangel
Summary: 23 years after Jeepers Creepers, an aged Patricia Jenner unknowingly finds a way to avenge Darry and kill the Creeper, using a man who possesses supernatural abilities. Brody Cross is an original character of mine from other stories. PLEASE READ & REVIEW!
1. Beast from Beneath

**JEEPERS CREEPERS:**

**DEADLOCK**

A crash of breaking glass sounded under the riotous choiring of Big Annie's Bar & Grill, a lowly hole in the wall business set deep in the snowy mountains of Colorado. Truckers and travelers of all sorts knew this off-road slum as a sanctuary from a long night's drive, a place where any deadbeat or weary worker could come to drown their troubles in a tall, frosty bottle. Alone, in the dim lit corner of the establishment, a stranger sat quietly to himself. His head hung low, draped under thick raven locks of hair.

For minutes abound, he sat still in his chair, only moving to swallow a sip of beer from his transparent mug. The locals had come to know this man in the last few weeks, not by identity, but by routine. Every night, he would appear from the chilling roads of nowhere and take the same seat as before, ordering a few brews before retreating into the afterhours. Never had they seen him with company of any kind. This was the life he had become accustomed to.

With a crack of the entrance door, a spurt of whipping wind echoed loudly from outside, giving tell of a new customer's arrival. Catching ear of the gruff regulars' hoots and hollers at their new guest, the Stranger raised his head to investigate. It was a woman, one not normally customary of these parts. From the very sight of her, the lady was an amazing treat for a man's eyes to sample. Her hair lay long and brown, straightened like a board. Even with being in her early forties, no one would've guessed it. Her slim build and toned physique would testify to that fact. This enigmatic female had more beauty than any of the patrons had seen in some time.

Beyond the mere image of her, though, there was sadness. The Stranger keened to it almost immediately. It was simple for him. The way her hazel eyes seemed to hang low, even when topped with a blank expression, as if they were used to never brightening up with excitement or happiness. It was all too familiar look. The regulars may've only seen the woman as eye candy, but the Stranger saw an injured soul.

In a quick minute, she scanned the crowd, as if searching for something or someone in particular, only when peering on the Stranger did she finally move from the doorframe. Navigating through the welter of chairs and tables, the woman maneuvered her way into the back of the bar, stopping right in front of her target. "Excuse me. Is your name Brody Cross?"

The Stranger nearly froze in astonishment, but managed to keep his expression as impartial as possible. A person he had never met before somehow knew his real name, a thing he rarely gave out. He dreaded what else she may know about him. "Maybe…what do you want from him?" He answered in a low baritone voice, void of any interest.

"Just to talk." She promised, hinting a sense of nervousness.

Brody spied further into the woman. He could see a glimpse of importance beckoning to be spoken, but the past few years had understandably turned him bitter to the comfort of others. If she had problems, he wanted nothing to do with them. "Sorry, I'm not much for talking these days, Ma'am. There's a church about fifteen miles down the road. If you've got a problem, they're obligated to care."

Ignoring her dismissal, the woman stubbornly took a seat across from him at the table. "Then I'll talk and you listen. My name is Trish Jenner, and I need your help."

Brody's eyes didn't flap a wink. He stared on with a face of ice, not returning a word to her request until he was ready to. Digging his hand into his pocket, he retrieved a crinkled pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes, to which he lit one in his lips. "Okay, Trish, you think I'm a cop or something? Because I'll tell you right now, I'm much more corrupt."

"No, I know you're not a cop. But I do know about your reputation, Mr. Cross. As jilted as it may be these days. Correct me if I'm wrong, but a few years ago you were known to deal with things of a supernatural nature, right? I've read all the old newspaper articles featuring your career. Exorcisms, strange and vicious animal attacks that stopped once you were involved. Everything."

"Apparently you missed the part where they called me a con man." Brody scoffed, blowing a trail of ashy smoke from his mouth.

"Are you?" Trish asked bluntly, earning a dismissive shift in Brody's gaze, but no reply. It was all the answer she needed. "Well, that's just the kind of a person I'm looking for."

Despite a slight sense to hear out her full story, Brody knew this would just turn out to be something he'd regret listening to later. Another sob story, he'd suddenly feel compelled to rewrite using his *special* friend. So rather than hearing the facts of her long journey to finding him here, Brody figured he'd just as well get to the point. "What is it you want me to do exactly, Trish?"

Trish's face paled a little when prompted with the easy question that was far from easy to answer. It was a mystery what she was thinking about at that particular moment, but all seemed clearer when she noticeably rubbed a ruby encrusted, class ring on her index finger. "I want you to help me kill a monster."

Brody threw a fake spurt of laughter at her response in order to further downsize her belief in his talents. If he was lucky, maybe she'd become insulted and storm out on him. "Monster, eh? Don't tell me you believe in the Boogeyman?"

"Believe?" Trish's eyes found the slick surface of the table as a screen to project her memories of a ravenous creature. The wrecked police station, the way no weapon on Earth seemed to harm it, and finally, the searing stare of fear in her brother's eyes as he was taken by it. "No…I don't have to believe…not when I've seen him in the flesh."

For the first time in their brief meeting, Brody found himself beginning to feel genuine remorse for the poor woman sitting across from him, just like he had for many others in the forgotten past. "Okay, fine. I'll bite. What exactly is this thing you want killed?"

"To be honest, I don't have any fucking clue what it is, or where it came from? It's like a human…but not." Trish struggled to place words that would describe the magnitude of the creature's evil. "It has wings, and its face…that horrible face." The fear she felt 23 years previous still seemed to have a tight grip over her. She often wondered if it would ever flee.

Brody had already long gotten the picture. She had had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering another otherworldly creature, something like him, both rare amongst the normal world. "So how exactly do you think I can help you in all this?"

"You tell me!" Trish's voice boomed, tears now welling in the lids of her eyes. "You're the one rumored to have dealt with shit like this."

Brody found himself at a crossroads. In helping her, he would reveal the primal beast that lies beneath his own skin. His BFB, but not a Best Fucking Friend. Would she still trust him then? Guilty conscience or not, this was a risk he just couldn't take. Not anymore. Not ever again. "Look. I understand you may've been through a lot, but I can't help you. I can barely help myself."

In that single sentence, Brody easily and undeniably crushed all hope of retribution for Patricia Jenner's, proven by the teary, gaped appearance that then overtook her. A thing he wanted to avoid, but then again, he never asked for her to come to him. "Please, you have to!" She now turned to pleading. "I-I have a plan to lure it out into the open, then all you have to do is help me kill it."

Brody sucked in the last inch of his cigarette and extinguished it in his near empty mug. "I'm sorry you wasted your time."

In a fury, Trish jerked in her seat, her skin flushing bright with a mixture of anger and frustration, until suddenly, she composed herself. For one quiet moment, she stared at Brody with distain ruling her heart, and then proceeded to smear away the tears that trailed her cheeks. "This isn't over, Mr. Cross. You're going to help me whether you like it or not." Turning a cold shoulder, Trish then reclaimed her stance and pushed towards the main door until disappearing behind it with a thunderous slam.

Seeing her rush out in such heated disappointment, Brody felt the sting of his conscience. Deep down, he did wish to aid her in this mission, but he learned years ago that helping others only caused him more pain in the long run. Maybe it was selfish to a point, but what did he care? He'd lost everything and everyone to a crusade that he never wanted. When was it his time to be happy? At this moment in life, he owed nothing to anyone but himself.

All the drama of the previous conversation left a stale taste in Brody's mouth, so bad that not even another beer could wash it away. The clock on the wall read 1:55 am; it was time for him to go. Snatching up his black bomber jacket, Brody took his leave of the gritty establishment. One foot out the door, he watched his own breath evaporate in mid-air. The weather had dropped to a staggering five degrees, but even freezing temperatures like this couldn't hold up against the fire pumping in his blood. Dressing his chiseled body with his jacket, Brody was about to begin his walk the empty road when someone called out to him.

"Hey, You!" A raspy voice sounded from behind him. Peering over his shoulder, Brody came into focus of two men standing beside a vast white semi-truck. One stood black and burly, displaying the physicality of a possible hobby of weightlifting. The other was of a smaller build, set more towards your average Joe with a casual pairing of blue jeans and a trucker jacket completing the picture of rustic Americana found with the duo. "Got a light?" The Smaller Man asked, holding a cigar between his fingers.

Every paranoid bone in his body told Brody that something was wrong about these two. Maybe they were muggers, or it's possible that they indeed just needed a light. Either way, if they did try something, it'd be a fast funeral and a faster walk back to the motel. "Yeah, sure." Brody continued to walk over and greet the patrons with a lit zippo, to which the Small Man ignited his cancer stick.

"Thanks a lot there, buddy. They call me Donny, and this is Buster. "The Small Man dealt out their identities with a sly smile of charisma, masked under a thick southern accent.

Brody half wanted to chuckle out loud when hearing the big man's name was Buster of all things, but decided against it. "Buster…" He tried his best not to grin. "That's an interesting name. Why do they call you that?"

"Because I like to bust the mouths of smart-asses." Buster replied with a grim, piercing glare.

"Good for you, big fella. Now just for laughs, try and spell it." This was Brody at his most social, always placing sarcasm before civility.

In a brash move, Buster reached out for a grab at Brody's shoulder, but was halted when Donny stepped in front of him. "Relax, he's joking, Buster. Just joking." Donny's words seemed to calm the big man's anger rather quickly, as he then respectfully stood back in place, but kept his eyes locked on Brody, just waiting for him to insult him again. In order to divert the situation away from violence, Donny wrapped his arm around Brody's neck and began directing him away from Buster. "I've gotta apologize for my friend. Sometimes his temper burns brighter than hellfire itself."

"Yeah, roids can do that to you." Brody smirked, earning a small giggle out of Donny.

"Heh-heh…anyway, what're you up to tonight, partner?"

Brody glanced back at Buster with a hint of suspicion, his gut nagging at him to be alert. "I'm headed back to my motel."

"Great! We can give you a ride in our rig. Hop on in, buddy."

Now Brody was sure there were ulterior motives in play. Donny's emphasis on staying in a stranger's company was an easy tell, especially when it was so obvious that Buster was not a fan. "No thanks. I like to walk."

"Like to walk? Hell, it's colder than my ex-honey's heart out here, friend."

The patience that sustained the conversation up to this point had now drained out of Brody. He was done talking for the night. "I don't like repeating myself…friend."

Donny nervously threw up his hands in defense. "Whoa, whoa, taker easy there, pal. I was just trying to be cordial now. Enjoy your walk."

Brody refrained from dropping his guard on Donny, until he saw the back of his head traveling away from him. Only then did he turn and begin his own stroll in the opposite direction. Almost instantly, quick claps of feet scudded through the ground. Before he had the chance to do anything about it, Brody felt the hard touch of a blackjack crack the rear of his skull. The impact scrambled his thoughts as he tried to sustain his footing. Shortly after, the blistering kicks and punches of Donny & Buster became fiercely evident.

Brody was left helpless to defend himself against the two attacker's assault. Luckily, just as soon as it had begun, the relentless beating was over, leaving their victim fallen deep into unconsciousness a few blows back. Donny and Buster were left at a lost after what they had done, perhaps regretting it for reasons of their own.

"Okay, put him in the truck." Donny commanded of Buster.

"I ain't putting him in there with us. He could wake up and make us jackknife the damn thing." Buster argued in return.

"Well we can't be putt' in him in the back with the girls, now can we?"

"Why not? That's where that **thing** will eventually end up, so why not this guy?"

"Look, we're gonna drug him up, you jackass. Now stop your bitch'in and put him in the fuck'in truck." There was no telling how long the two partners in crime were going to continue with their bickering. However, unknown to the arguing pair, something was changing around them.

In a violent jolt, Brody's body twitched ever so subtle. Soon, the darkness of night was absorbed into his eyes, painting them a solid shade of ebony. One by one, the man's teeth grew longer and sharper into bladed fangs. His nails extended from his fingers like knives, his skin gradually set to a boil. Inch by inch, Brody's flesh gained massive strides of muscularity, cloaked under a suit of evolving black scales. His ears spiked upward like a bat's, pushing against the disintegrating clots of hair that descended from the scalp.

Planting his elongated digits into the snowy gravel, Brody pulled himself to one knee and let an inhuman roar escape his throat. Only now did Donny & Buster come to realize the peril they were now entrenched in. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" Buster yelled to the peak of his speech.

Donny couldn't answer his friend's horrified scream. His ability to speak had fled him, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of terror. The process of Brody's transformation was nearly complete, only then would his merciless wrath be known. The clothes that once dressed the humanoid now fell tattered to the snow, shredded from the indifference in the man's normal frame. One more minute and the Beast From Beneath would be fully restored.

Without warning, a zipping noise whistled closely through the air, taking shape of a tranquilizer dart lodged in the beast's neck. One after another, numerous darts punctured Brody's various limbs, numbing them into falter. Against his will, the incomplete transformation was unable to defeat the power of the sedatives. Slowly, his vision blurred into a haze of distortion before forcing him down to his back. Looking up at the night sky, the last clear thing Brody would see before falling into slumber was the image of Trish Jenner staring through the scope of a hunting rifle.


	2. Hunters

**CHAPTER 2:** **HUNTERS**

A pitch of ringing tolled through Brody's ears like gongs, pressuring his mind to awaken. His body felt weightless under a numbing daze, as if softly floating in mid-air. Dispersing his eyelids, the man's pupils racked back and forth, desperately trying to find solid sight in a sea of indistinction. In an effort to rebuild his bearings, Cross planted his palms against the cold steely floor and pushed off. His toned biceps shuddered with exhaustion, begging him to surrender. With a torturous groan, he managed to climb up to all fours. The binds of the sedatives still held power over him, no matter how much he tried to fight them.

Raising his head up, Brody witnessed a blurred, large metal shaft as his prison. The walls were smooth and shiny like the surface of a car, indicating he was no doubt inside some kind of hauling vehicle. Throwing aside his head to try and shake the colorful dots from his vision, Cross vaguely recalled what happened before he was forced into slumber. The two truckers who attacked him, Trish's disabling shots of tranquilizer darts just as his metamorphosis was finishing; yes, it was all clear how deep of shit he was in. Calling upon all the strength he could muster, Brody worked against his body's denial and propelled himself upward, only to be harshly restrained back down to the ground.

Observing his hands, he found metal shackles bound to his wrists from the floor. Cross was amazed how he failed to notice them before. The drugs running through his system must've been stronger than he initially thought. Tug after tug, he tried to tear the chain links asunder, but only found his energy depleting quicker as he did so. The option to try change into his monstrous alter-ego was possible, though very risky in his current state. Usually he would require intense session of anger to initiate and complete the transformation, yet such an emotion was hard to call on with his newly medicated mindset. He might end up with only bits of pieces of the beast from beneath. He shuddered at trying to get a beer with that kind of look on him.

The moan of a creaking door announced echoes through the shaft, warning that someone was on their way. Brody rolled his eyes at how things seemed to just get better and better. A normal man might've panicked and plead for freedom in such a situation, but Cross had been in this dilemma so many times, it began to get repetitive. Now was the hour he would face down his captors, and find out why they have done this to him.

Seemingly from nowhere, Patricia Jenner had again appeared to Brody from parts unknown, though their surroundings now were a little less hospitable than the bar. Two people accompanied Trish to the side. Buster was one, holding the same hunting rifle used to put Brody down the first time. The other was a plump, aging black woman, whose silent outlook promoted both fear and unease of their new prisoner.

The ability to keep his eyes afloat was becoming harder and harder for Brody to accomplish, as well as succeeding in pissing him off. The trio of kidnappers stood quietly, observing what appeared to be a human male, but they knew was not.

Brody sunk his face low, allowing his long strands of hair to fold over his head and vale his face. _"So I guess now I'm nothing more than an animal to you, Ms. Jenner." _Brody responded, never raising his eyes to meet hers_. "Tell me, how did you know what I was?"_

Trish stayed firm, but cautious. She made perfectly sure to keep a good distance from Cross, just in case he had a trick up his sleeve_. "To be honest, I didn't know, Mr. Cross. Those chains are reserved for someone else. But seeing as you aren't quite as human as the rest of us, I don't think we had a choice in putting you in them."_

Brody scoffed at her comment. He'd spent years hunting creatures that might harm or threaten the human race, sacrificing everything he treasured in a quest to declare he was worthy of humanity. And yet when it all comes down to it, he is rewarded with not being quite as human as the rest of them.

It didn't take a genius to realize these assholes meant business. Not only did they have his proverbial nuts in the cracker, but they also knew the darkest of his many secrets. It was obvious there would be no easy way out of this one. Shifting up to his knees, Cross sat with a grim shearing stare. _"So where do we go from here?" _He asked, almost too eerily polite.

"_Why don't you start by telling us what the hell you really are?" _Trish proposed, biting her lower lip with a tinge of curiosity.

Brody couldn't stop but think of the many humorous answers he could give just to get her fuming at him. Might as well after all, what did he really have to lose at this point anyway?_ "Me……I came out of Roswell…and I really want to probe Lindsay Lohan."_

Buster clicked shut the chamber of his rifle in an intimidating fashion. _"Answer the fuck'in question!" _The black brute violently ordered.

This big lout's previous actions had already earned Brody's vengeance for the day. Pushing him further would only make his death that much slower when he escapes. _"Or what, Big Boy? You'll juice your pants like before?"_

Without preamble, Buster moved to strike Cross with the butt of his rifle, but found Trish's hand halting his progress. _"NO! Don't play his games! Now answer the question, Brody."_

"_Why? Why should I make it so easy for you, Ms. Jenner?"_ The loner then acknowledged his own head drifting from side to side. _"You clearly haven't made it on me."_

"_Because if you don't. Then I don't have any further use for you. That's why."_

Without saying a word, Brody tossed Trish a smug look and comically held out his confined wrists to be set free. But Trish just shook her head in disapproval. _"No, you don't get it. I can't just set you free. A thing like you might hurt someone else. Someone people care very deeply for; and I just can't have that."_

It was obvious what Trish intended to do if Cross didn't cooperate. He knew that if he were to be blown away in human form, his chances of surviving would be non-existent. His best shot now was to bluff. In a flash, his conduct changed from cocky and insulting, back to cold and serious. A noticeable trademark of one so well trained in the psychology of mind games. _"You've seen for yourself what I am…what I can become…do you really think a fuck'in bullet's gonna kill me, bitch?"_

Now Trish was the one smirking smugly. _"Actually, I do. Buster and Donny took you down pretty easy when you looked normal. I'm willing to bet that's your kryptonite, Superman."_

He was beat, and Brody knew it. Something in her eyes told him that she had every intention of following through with her threat. That same sadness he noticed before in the bar was evident again. It was almost as if she hated him more for what he was. The strangest part in all of this was that Patricia was the only one that never once seemed surprised that something like Cross existed. With a defeatist tone, Brody answered her question with stern defiance_. "Sorry Honey-jeans, but I don't like you enough to play nice just yet. But if you want, why don't you tell me where this little ride is gonna end?"_

Trish didn't answer his question for a moment's grace. Perhaps she was contemplating on whether or not Brody was actually considering helping them. Either way, she had no choice but to fess up. _"We're going to a little rural place called Kissel County, a few states away from here. That's where we'll find him…"_

"_The monster you wanted to kill, right?" Brody questioned._

"_Yes, Mr. Cross."_

"_And how can you be so sure it's still there, Ms. Jenner?"_

"_Because 23 years ago, the same creature was fought and beaten a by school bus of teenagers, and two farmers. The farmers captured it and hung it up in their barn for display."_

At this point, Brody actually felt an ironic bond with the foe in question. _"Gee, I wonder what that feels like."_ He joked sarcastically. _"Anyways, it sounds like your job is done already."_

"_No, I'm afraid it's not. When they took it, it was still alive. Ten days ago, the newspapers reported that those same farmers, Jack Taggart and his son, Jack Taggart Jr., were found slaughtered on their property. Their bodies were thoroughly disemboweled, and their main attraction was missing. That's what initially prompted us to go looking for you so quickly. We thought a man of your reputation might know something about this thing, so we began to track you down using some of Buster and Donny's old military contacts."_

Brody could feel an ominous chill run up his spine. If this thing was half as bad as she made it out to be, then many more lives could be lost if they failed to kill it. It disturbed him that how much confliction burned within his soul. Even with all they've done to make his life harder, a small part of him knew that an evil such as this needed to be stopped. _"So if it's escaped, why do you think it's still in that relative area?"_

"_Every 23 springs, for 23 days, this thing has to feed on human organs in order to sustain itself. It took what it needed from the Taggarts, but I don't think they had what it was looking for. By now, it's desperate to regenerate itself, so it'll stick close to the main roads, looking for fresh victims and fresher parts. That's where its hunting ground will be."_

"_So you think by just driving up and down the roads we'll eventually run into it? Sorry, but that's a half ass plan even by my standards, lady."_

"_I know that plan won't work, Mr. Cross. This monster has an acute sense of smell. When I first encountered it, I gave it a choice to take me over someone else…but it didn't_." Patricia's fingertips rubbed the same ruby ring as before, while continuing to speak_. "It didn't like my scent. Over time, I couldn't figure it out, then one day it came to me. I showed unknown bravery when I presented myself to it, and that was a mistake. This thing feeds on weakness; it gets off on how scared we are of it. I think it actually smells our fear."_

In that instant, Brody's weary eyes spread to full length. Something was very odd about what she had just said. He couldn't quite put his thumb on it, but the words began to make sense about what she was describing. Something was just so…familiar. _"So if it smells you coming, it'll never come out in the open."_

"_Exactly. So that's why we have to bring IT to US."_

"_And how exactly do you and the Mod Squad plan on accomplishing that?"_

"_By using bait. You see, every year, Kissel County High School sends a select few students to the Misty Acres camping grounds as a reward for their contribution to the school. And it just so happens that Misty Acres is only 7 miles from the Taggarts' farm. There is no way in hell that he'll pass up this opportunity. Donny will hijack the bus and make sure it goes right pass the fields leading to the Taggarts' farm, luring our man-eater friend out in the process. From there, he'll bring the students to the campsite, where we'll be waiting."_

Cross was shocked at the root of Ms. Jenner's plan. He had earned his horns long ago for compromising tactics, but never would he resort to using kids as bait for his own vengeance. _"I see……that still doesn't explain how you'll know when he strikes?"_

With a glance to her left, Patricia nodded to the speechless, plump woman. Her skin shook very subtle, clearly giving off her disapproval of the recent events. _"Dat be where I come in, sir. My name is Jezelle Gay Hartman, and I believe I can tell when dat demon shows his evilness. I sense him when he be near, so I'll be tell'in when he arrives. On a side note, I wanna apologize for our actions as of late; especially those of my young' in brother over there, Busta. He's been bullheaded since he was pulled from our Momma."_

"_Ah, big sis; why you gotta go talk'in me down like dat?!"_ Buster whined, taking his sight away from aiming at Brody's chest.

"_Hush up, Busta!"_ Jezelle fired back. _"We've done someth'in deathly wrong to this man, and the last thing he needs is you make' in things worse for him."_

Brody absorbed one long look of Jezelle. If there was one person he was going to spare out of all of this, it was her. Maybe it was that charming southern accent or good heart, but he just couldn't see himself doing her harm. However, the rest of them were dead as dirt.

Turning back to Trish, Cross found her looking closely unto him. As if waiting for some kind of answer. But he had one more question he needed to ask. "_So it looks like you've got all but one thing covered, Ms. Jenner. And that is where do I play into this now that you know about my skeletons?"_

Trish grinned and slightly shifted her cheeks into a smirk. _"The same as before, Mr. Cross, you're going to help us kill it. Now that I've see what you can do, I now know we have a real shot at finishing this bastard off once and for all."_

Brody matched her smirk with one of his own. _"But you're forgetting something, Trishy. In order for me to fight your little battle, you'll have to set me free first. And do you really think that thing is going to be the one I'm gonna go after?"_

What was meant to intimidate the frail middle-aged woman had no effect in the least. In fact, it only made her smirk increase in width. _"He'd better be, if you want the cure."_

Cross churned his eyebrows bewilderedly. _"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"_

"_Well, Buster over here trained in anesthesia while in he was in the army. And it just so happens that why'll you were sleeping, he injected you with a large does of concentrated Lead."_ Trish easily noticed the wobbly behavior of Brody's limbs. _"I bet you thought it was the sedatives that were making you so weak? Ehh, wrong. You've just come down with a bad case of lead poisoning, Mr. Cross. And to make things even worse, we had to up the dosage because of your beastly half. So unless you help us, Buster will never give you the ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid (EDTA) shot needed to cure your infection. _

It had been a long time since Brody's face raged with such fury. His fists clinched with redness, as his nose and jaw snarled like an animal's. In jump of lividity, Brody clawed out for Trish's neck, earning her and her allies' hasty retreat back a few steps. _"BITCH! I'm gonna tear your fucking heart out and watch you die!"_ If not for the strain of his shackles, Cross surely would've succeeded with his promise. It was all too short before the effort placed into his futile attack consequentially drained Brody of all his remaining strength, forcing him into a tumble to the floor. There, he lay on his back, hacking to breathe normally.

Trish was in utter awe over what almost occurred. For a minute, she almost seemed apologetic for what she had done. But soon this was again replaced by the cold demeanor of her mission for revenge. _"Help us if you value your life at all, Mr. Cross. Otherwise, you'll soon end up just like our target…another dead monster." _

Trish and her comrades turned away from the meager man before them, and headed to exit out of the truck. Just as Trish was about to be the last to leave the cargo hold, a spree of laughter reverberated back to her. It was Brody, seemingly laughing heartily at nothing. _"What's so funny?" _She shouted back to him.

Finishing up his long chuckle, Cross answered her while still staring upward at his distorted image in the glazed steel ceiling. _"Why you are, Ms. Jenner. You kidnap me against my will, chain me up like a rabid dog, plan to use innocent people as bait to settle some old score…..and yet I'm the monster?"_ Brody immediately wheezed and continued on with his series of boisterous guffawing.

For the most uncomprehended of reasons, the man's words seemed to breach hard within the callous heart of Patricia Jenner, as she viciously then slammed the door shut, allowing darkness to rule again.


	3. Bait

The day was bright in Kissel County, drenched with the blinding rays of the sun. The temperature struck dry and humid, baking the air like the hot breath of an oven. A school bus sat rumbling in courtyard of the local public high school. Just outside it, a select group of six students sat alongside the metal wall of the vehicle, waiting in anticipation for their camping trip to begin. To the right, crowded together, was the Alpha Pack--Tony Rimmer, Amber McCarthy, and Dean Brooks, the school's prime leaders in athletics. Calling them popular would be an insult that would mostly likely result in hazing. With their high test scores and remarkable athletic ability, they were gods amongst normal students, and they expected to be treated as such.

Tony was the obvious leader, as well as the quarterback to the school's championship football team. The gorgeous brunette wrapped like a vine around his arm was Amber, captain of the cheer squads, and small time magazine model on the side. Though her beauty was rare, her arrogance was only surpassed by Tony. Dean checked in as the lackey to the king and queen of Kissel County. He was notorious for being a snide, sarcastic prick, who really only cared about being on the top with his two buddies.

The other three students had much more to their character than the first. Rudy Gardner held the reputation of being a nice guy amongst the class ensemble; rumored to be compassionate to almost anyone he met, at least everyone except for the Alpha Pack. Perry Hyatt had been Rudy's best friend since 2nd grade, and both have stayed the same since, though Perry was less acknowledged by his student brethren. Lastly, Lindsey Burton was present. An ambitious kind of female, Lindsey runs the school newspaper like Hitler ran Germany. She was always looking for a story to print, and would step over anyone she had to get it. Thus further her ascent into the media world.

With a quickened clap of hands, the small welter of adolescent chattering was placed to a pause. Down a short row of stone steps, their vice principal, Ms. Simmons, came running in a hurry of feet. "_All right, all right people. Everyone line up."_ She ordered, earning the reluctant groan of her party.

One by one, they picked a spot against the edge of the bus, all just wishing they could start the damn trip already. The oafish woman took a minute to sift through the papers piled on top of her clipboard. Ms. Simmons was always a stickler to the rules and regulations of the educational system. After all, she had to; she was one of its most prized products. _"Okay guys, listen up. As you know, we will be beginning our annual fieldtrip to Misty Acres campgrounds today. But before we leave, I need to state some general rules just in case any of you lovely people decide there aren't any. First of all, no one is permitted to leave the camp for any such reason that isn't medical. And last, but certainly not least, there will be absolutely no bizarre conduct that the school would disapprove of if it took place inside its own walls. Everyone understand?"_

A spree of giggling erupted from Tony and Amber as he raised his hand high. _"Yeah, I gotta question, Ms. Sims."_

Ms. Simmons puffed a sigh of complaint in answering him. She detested that short name, yet Tony never seemed to mind calling her it. _"Yes Mr. Rimmer, what is it?"_

"_Yeah, I just wanna know what all falls under bizarre conduct?"_ The School Quarterback replied cockily.

"_Oh, I don't know? I suppose things that would be as bizarre as you reading a book, or spelling word with more than three letters, Tony."_ Ms. Simmons' comment stole the gusto from Tony's attitude, prompting him to mutter the word **'bitch'** beneath his breath. With nothing left to say, Ms. Simmons stirred her hand towards the vehicle's entry door, silently signaling the lot to load up.

In single file, the students lined up and marched into the claustrophobic bearings of the bus, taking seats wherever they pleased. The Bus Driver sat with his head buried against the wheel, probably sleeping off a hangover from the night before. Ms. Simmons frowned at him in disappointment. _"Okay, everyone just sit down and relax. We'll be leaving shortly."_

Rudy, Perry, and Lindsey found favor in the back of the bus, far away from the rants of the Alpha Pack on how great they were. _"Geez, can we just go already." _Perry complained as he brushed his spikey bangs with his fingers.

Rudy scoffed laughably. _"Take it easy. We'll be gone soon enough. Besides, what's the hurry? All we're gonna be doing out there is watching trees grow and maybe squirrels screw." _he joked.

"_Yeah, but I'm currently smuggling nature's herbs on my person. And I really want unlock the magic, if you get my drift." _Perry replied uncomfortably.

"_Really? Ms. Simmons already checked all of our gear. Where could you possibly be hiding it?"_

Perry steered away from his friend and returned with a grim look. _"It's probably best you don't know."_

Rudy understood completely where the contents were being kept, and the idea of it irked him to no end. _"Just so we're clear, I'm not smoking that batch, Perry."_

"_Christ! And you wonder why girls don't like you, Perry?"_ Lindsey chimed in from the seat in front of them, having overheard the two's conversation.

Perry smirked with unbeatable confidence in himself. _"Hey, girls like me…just the ugly ones is all…and the fat ones...and the pseudo-masochistic ones."_ Listening to his own speech, Perry's confidence then sunk with his chin, leaving Rudy and Lindsey helpless to laugh aloud.

Their joined laughter carried all the way to the front of the vehicle. Ms. Simmons heard the glee of it and responded. _"All right settle down, guys. We're leaving."_ She then turned her sights back to the drunken driver. _"Driver…driver!"_ She nagged, shaking the Bus Driver's shoulder until he sluggishly raised his head up.

"_Yes ma'am. Whatcha need there, sweetie?"_ The Bus Driver asked from under the cover of a large John Deere trucker's cap.

"_Are you going to take us to the camp grounds or not?"_ The Vice Principal demanded to know, clearly miffed about his current condition.

"_Sure I will,"_ he answered with his lower row of teeth emerging into a grin. _"just take a seat, and we'll be off."_

Though Ms. Simmons had reservations on the man's demeanor, she did as she was told and sat in the seat behind him. The racket of the emergency brake releasing under the bus then crunched loudly, as the Bus Driver lead the vehicle into motion. Just as they broke into the lanes of the town roads, the driver glanced into his reflection in the rectangular mirror above him, and revealed the face of Donny staring back at him.


	4. Perdition

CHAPTER 4: **PERDITION**

Three long days had passed since Brody's capture, three long days since his last meal, or more importantly, his last cigarette. At this point he would've settled for a flaming condom stuffed with tobacco. He didn't mind the chains so much anymore, but the least those redneck screwheads could've done is give him a twinkie and a smoke. Just a few hours previous, Cross had lost all feeling in his hands. It was kind of morbid to watch himself twitter his fingers and not sense their movement. Were he a normal human being injected with this high of a dose of lead, he would've died approximately nine hours ago, or so he roughly calculated in his head.

When they were on the road, Brody would smack them against the side of the wall for hours on end, hoping to jar loose some sensation and maybe annoy the shit outta the driver while he was at it. God how he hoped it was Buster. Unfortunately, they'd stopped traveling a while ago. Crickets could be heard chirping in tune from the outside. Brody knew now night had fallen. Sighing deeply, he tiredly fell backwards to the floor, wondering how they expected him fight against this creature if he could barely stand. These cow folk definitely weren't MENSA material, no, that would imply they graduated high school and never married their cousins.

Still, despite his yearning to hang the majority of his captors with their own organs, something from before wouldn't stop stabbing at his memory. Trish mentioned the monster in question could literally smell someone's fear. Brody had bust knuckles with almost every baddie to crawl their scaly ass out of the fiery pit, but this one was different. He didn't recalled why just yet, but he could tell Trish and the Mod Squad were about to be drowning in deep shit. Normal demons aren't much different from animals. They live, they breathe, and they can die.

Granted, a good few are birthed into a more spiritual form, like entities that can possess small girls and make their heads spin around in circles. However, only the most ancient of the breed get the best of both worlds, the soldiers who helped Lucifer build his hell. Now those are the mother fuckers you don't ever want cornering you in an alley somewhere. They were like gods amongst average demons, warriors of phenomenal strength and skill. Setting fire to an orphanage of toddlers wouldn't be enough to even wet their malicious appetite. Lucky for humans these satanic jerkoffs are even rarer than the lochness monster, but that still didn't mean there wasn't one or two walking the earth. Even Brody doubted if he could beat one in a toe to toe brawl, and his demon death toll was nearly at a cool five hundred.

A grinding thrust of iron on iron suddenly ripped through the air, boasting the familiar sound of the door's creaky opening. Brody fell alert, rising to an Indian crouch. As he had guessed before, it was clearly dark outside, but a bright pink neon light oddly managed to flush the shaft. From what he could surmise, the light belonged to the vacancy sign of whatever piss-hole motel Trish decided to catch some winks at. Cross half expected the she-bitch to be the one disturbing his prison sentence so late, yet was very surprised to find who was really stepping from the shadows--a little girl. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, her short stature and young skin told of that fact. Short brown hair housed her scalp, styled into a bob, going rather nicely with the bland outfit of blue jeans, gym shoes, and a black t-shirt.

At first Brody thought he might be hallucinating, or at least he hoped so. The last thing he wanted on his conscience was the idea that he fantasized of little girls. But with a puff of breath, she spoke. _"Who the hell are you?"_

Cross flapped his lips like a horse, trying to shake off the daze in his head. _"Apparently, I'm your new pet."_ He joked to no bravo. _"Uh, the name's Brody, kid. Who are you?"_

The girl paused with an indecisive stare, like giving her name to this stranger wasn't a favorable thing to do. _"I'm Daria."_ She replied in a low, awkward voice. _"So…what're you like doing in here?"_

"_Oh, I'm just rotting away like a fruit basket because of that bitch, Trish. I'm sure you probably know her. Brown hair, kinda angry, built like a bobble-head."_

"_My mom did this to you?"_ Daria answered astounded.

Brody shook in disbelief. He never pictured Trish as the mother type. Looking down on his shackled wrists, he couldn't help but imagine what her punishments were like at home. God forbid this little chick ever break curfew. _"Trish is your mom? No offense, kid. But you got the ass end of a raw deal on that one."_

Daria squinted in uncertainty. _"Well you must've deserved it."_

"_What?! Does 'crazy' run in your family genes or something? Jesus!"_ Cross felt his blood to boil, prompting his dizziness to worsen. Drawing in deepened breaths of air, he restrained his fury and calmed his nerves. _"Say, you don't by chance a key to these on you? _Brody proposed, wishing for a yes. Daria simply shook her head no. _"Okay…how about a cigarette?"_ He asked more excitedly hopeful than before.

Daria quickly cocked her head. _"I'm only fourteen."_

Cross rose an unsure brow. _"So…no?"_

"_No."_ She wheezed out.

"_Ah, that figures. I meet the one teenage brat in America that cares about cancer."_ He scoffed in disappointment. _"What the hell are you doing in here anyway, kid? Won't your mom tan your ass for seeing me unsupervised?"_

"_Well it's pretty late. They're all asleep in the RV. Besides, up until a few days ago, this is where I'd come to hang out. Not much selection when you travel as much as we do."_

Cross' eyes shifted to the floor, his tone steering away from his sarcasm. _"So you and your mom have been on the move for a while now, huh?"_

"_Yeah. We never stay in one place for long. The last couple years have been really hectic."_

"_Why do you move around so much?"_

"_She's never really told me. But one time I overheard her and Aunt Jezelle talking about looking for someone, though."_

Cross chuckled to himself. When Trish said she'd been looking for him for a while, he didn't realize she meant years. _"Well, that makes sense. So I guess she hasn't told you the real reason behind all those miles you put behind you?"_

"_Not really. Do you know?"_ Daria said with a slight frown.

It'd be a lie if Brody thought he didn't want to. He owed Trish a few favors of the unpleasant kind, so what better way to get back at her than having own kid think she's spilled her luck charms. Cross licked his lips, readying to tell Daria everything, but just as the words began to depart his mouth, he stalled. This girl had done nothing wrong to him. She'd even been pretty civil to him so far. The daughter shouldn't have to pay for the sins of the mother, and that's exactly what would happen if Brody told her the truth. _"Nah, I don't have a clue." _He fibbed. _"But maybe you should be getting back before they wake up and realize you're gone, kid. Don't want to be getting into trouble like me now do ya?"_

"_No, I don't think I'd handle being chained up as well as you." _Daria acknowledged with a slender grin. _"G-Goodbye...Brody."_ She spoke out before casually turning away and starting for the door.

"_Hey kid!"_ Brody announced through the shaft, halting her progression. _"Do me a solid and give your mom a nice slap goodnight for me, would ya?"_

Daria seemed off put by Brody's sarcastic request. _"Ya know I know whatever my mom's doing to you isn't right. But you shouldn't be so hard on her."_

"_Oh yeah, and why is that, kid?" _

"_Because Aunt Jezelle tells me she wasn't always so strict, at least she wasn't before my uncle was killed some years ago."_

Cross' gaze whirled. That was it. That was the source behind Trish's mission of vengeance. The person she mentioned she tried to give herself up for, the intense blending of sadness and hatred in her heart, it all stemmed from the death of her brother. A death this creature was no doubt responsible for. Brody figured from the get-go that her vendetta was personal, but it never dawned on him how personal it actually could be.

Trish was a normal, everyday girl before this thing appeared and robbed her of her innocence…and her family. She was nothing more than a product of a grizzly tragedy, what she became afterwards was not without cause. He and she had more in common than Brody originally thought. Returning his eyes to Daria, Cross signaled her to leave with a jerk of his head. Daria stole one more glance of Cross before exiting the truck and locking it.


End file.
